


Am I real in this world?

by SuushiShark



Series: Show me your hurt [1]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Dissociation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Idk myself what's going on and just tagged everything I could think of, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicidal Thoughts, M/M, Panic Attacks, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 14:55:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28637340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuushiShark/pseuds/SuushiShark
Summary: It just doesn't feel real. Nothing feels real to Wonwoo in that moment. He just can't wrap his head around why it's like that and just continues to fall deeper down the rabbit hole trying to come up with an answer.But Wonwoo has Mingyu caring for and grounding him, defusing the incident before Wonwoo can seriously hurt himself.
Relationships: Jeon Wonwoo/Kim Mingyu
Series: Show me your hurt [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2119794
Comments: 1
Kudos: 45





	Am I real in this world?

Wonwoo's eyes are fixed on his right fist. 

He counts 1 and put his thumb down.  
Then 2. His pointer finger joins his thumb.  
3, his middle finger.  
4, the ring finger.  
5, pinky. 

Slowly, he unfurls his now fist and frowns at his palm. 

It doesn't feel real. 

Wonwoo honestly can't wrap his head around why the touching doesn't feel real, why the touch barely lingers, why the pressure seems to be less than usually what his nerves report. 

He's lying on his bed, alone in the room he shares with Mingyu. For the past 15 minutes or so, he's been staring at the ceiling, feeling utter disinterest in any possible activity he could do. 

Sometimes, his breath hitches, goes shallow and for a split second he panics, before a _sick_ , welcoming feeling takes over about which he rather not wants to dwell about. However, the calmness that takes over does regulate his breathing. 

Wonwoo feels so useless, doing absolutely nothing. But he just can't help it. He can't even get up and drag his body to the living room where he's sure he's hearing Joshua and Minghao talking, presumably with Mingyu somewhere around too. Another option would be to go to Seungcheol's room and join the older gaming. 

Yet, his body is still glued to his bed, an invisible weight, lying heavy on his chest, tying him down. 

Time passes in slow motion for him at first, until he loses track of time completely. He doesn't remember when he lay down. Was it in the afternoon or after dinner? Wait, no, he hasn't eaten dinner yet. Or did he? He doesn't feel any hunger or thirst or any other needs he could have. 

Wonwoo wonders whether his body is cold. Corpses turn cold, any heat leaving them and honestly, he doesn't feel too different from one currently. Maybe he really died and this is just his restless soul clinging to past memories and seeking the place connected to them. 

His mind goes blank again. Even if he died, he doesn't have it in him to care. He's always been a cold person, sarcasm being his go to humor and only flourishing among people he warmed up to and deeply cares about. 

Does he still care about anybody? 

Wonwoo tries to think of his family, his members, carats, the old man from the shabby candy store a few streets away, the street cats he feeds. 

Mingyu. 

_Nothing_. 

Wonwoo blinks. He spots a dark spot on the ceiling, momentarily yanked back to reality, forgetting about any theories he's been occupied with. When did it get there? 

He tries to remember, deep down having the feeling he should know, but he just can't remember for the life of him. Gazing at it until his eyes go dry, he keeps trying to recall any memory of it, unsuccessfully. 

He feels so helpless. 

A tear slips from his eyes, rolling down his cheek. He feels his chest tighten uncomfortably, making him cry even more, wheezing out air, choking. He hears his heart pound, no, _feels_ it pound. Wonwoo's hands find their way in his hair, grasping at strands, tugging on them as if they’re the last thing he can hold onto for dear life. His head feels like a thousand degrees, as if it's burning up, with a headache forming, making him close his eyes and question, if it’s going to burst open soon, brain potentially spilling out and tainting the sheets, the bed, the wall, the room, the dorm– 

"Wonwoo, sweetheart, do you hear me? Breath, please, just breathe–" 

A loud gasp from Wonwoo echoes in the room, he sits up abruptly, his eyes flying open and forehead bumping full force into Mingyu's, who is situated in front of him. 

The younger groans in pain, his hands leaving Wonwoo's wrist he's been holding. Only now does Wonwoo notice that his hands were removed from his own hair, no longer tugging at it forcefully, a dull ache coming from his skull now. 

Wonwoo looks at Mingyu, his heart still racing and his thought seem to pick up the pace once again too. His eyes widen, gazing at Mingyu's, almost silently pleading him to do something, anything, just to help him. 

Wonwoo wheezes. 

"I don't wanna die yet." 

Immediately Mingyu's arms reach out for him, pulling him tight against his broad chest, his throbbing forehead forgotten in exchange for comforting the older. 

Wonwoo's whole body trembles, filled with adrenaline at the firm believe he would die. Once he tries to tell Mingyu as much, nothing but a gargling sound leaves his throat, making panic spike up in him, running through his veins. Somehow he needs to make Mingyu aware that just holding him wouldn't help, that they would need to get somebody else, _help_ , they would have to go to the hospital, or even better, call an ambulance so that– 

"Hyung, can you focus on my hand on your back? Just try to focus on that and nothing else. Whenever it strokes up your spine, take a deep breath. Once it strokes down, exhale. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?" 

Unconsciously, Wonwoo nods. His gaze is unfocused on the wall behind Mingyu, gasping for air to come fill his lungs. He squeezes his eyes shut and tries to drown out everything but the light pressure of a hand on his back. 

When Mingyu strokes upwards, he inhales shakily, short gasps escaping him while trying to hold his breath. As the hand strokes down his spine, Wonwoo puffs out all possible air in his lungs. Somewhere he hears Mingyu praising him, making warmth rise in his chest, carefully dislodging the heavy feeling there together with his slowly regulating breathing pattern, however, Wonwoo feels as if he's under water, like he's floating. 

Still without a feeling for the concept of time, Wonwoo can't say for how long they sat like that. At one point, Wonwoo weakly lifted his hands and grabbed hold of the back of Mingyu's sweater the other is wearing, squeezing the fabric whenever he inhales. 

Although his mind is still jumbled, Wonwoo feels his awareness slowly coming back. He smells their laundry detergent and Mingyu's cologne, he feels how soft the sweater Mingyu wears actually is and how in comparison his shirt sticks to his back, soaked with sweat. Upon opening his eyes, they need to adjust to the brightness of the room, pupils not darting around the room anymore. His ear is tickled by the warmth of the air Mingyu exhales while speaking to him and he can't help but find the feeling on his skin rather pleasant. 

Lastly, Mingyu's reassuring words he mumbled the whole time, shushing him, when he started to get worked up again, start to sink in too. 

Wonwoo finally feels a bit less detached from the world. 

"Thanks, Gyu." 

His voice is coarse and startles him, he didn't realize how much it must have suffered during his breakdown. 

The arms around him momentarily tighten and he hears Mingyu sigh in relief. Next, the other male pulls away from him, only to lean their foreheads together, connecting them gently this time, contrary to earlier. 

"I'm glad you’re better now. We all were worried because nobody saw you come and get dinner the whole evening and when I found you, you–..." 

Mingyu gnaws on his bottom lip and Wonwoo forms a tight smile in understanding. He, too, isn't sure what that was. A panic attack? Anxiety attack? Is there even a difference between the two? Was it simply something you call a freak-out? 

"You mentioned dinner... How late is it? When did I go to my room again?" 

Mingyu frowns at him. 

"In the early afternoon. It's already eight." 

Lowly, Wonwoo hummed. 

For a bit, Mingyu studied him, presumably trying to read his mood, which Wonwoo himself can't place, before he pulled back a bit, Wonwoo's hand letting go of his sweater in the process, just for Mingyu to intertwine Wonwoo's fingers with his 

"Let's clean you up, okay? Let me wash you down and then we change your shirt. I-, I also want to take a look at your wrists, if you let me." 

At that, Wonwoo raises his eyebrows, gaze darting to their hands and turning them over (without breaking the hold) and coming face to face with what seems to be bite marks, some even having broken skin and drew blood. His body reflexively tenses and he notes Mingyu's thumb calmingly stroking the back of his hands. 

"When–..." 

"You bit them when you tugged at your hair." 

Wonwoo gapes at the marks incredulous. Seeing them made him aware of a dull pain he feels in the area, already fading away. 

He gulps. 

He can't believe, he did this. 

Silently, Mingyu gets up and pulls Wonwoo along (he slightly lost balanced and had to hold onto Mingyu's arm for support), not further commenting on the wounds. 

Mingyu leads Wonwoo to the bathroom in their shared dorm, grabbing a new shirt from his closet on the way and upon entering, situates the older man on the closed toilet seat. There, he strips Wonwoo of his shirt, throwing it into the communal hamper and gets a washcloth. After wetting it with warm water, he wipes down Wonwoo's back, reminding him of the comforting strokes the younger did earlier. 

Once dressed again, Wonwoo looks down on his wrists in the meantime of Mingyu rummaging for the first aid kit they kept. 

The marks just seemed so unreal to him. 

Carefully, he presses a finger down onto one and hisses in pain. Some might not have drawn blood, but Wonwoo is sure they would still bruise badly. However, the pain made the marks all of a sudden appear real, with him being able to feel the pain. He was about to press down again (maybe even harder than before), but Mingyu caught his hand and smiled at him sadly. 

Wonwoo drops his gaze into his lap, suddenly feeling a weird wave of guilt wash over him. 

Guilt and _shame_. 

"I'm sorry for–" 

"You don't have to apologize for anything, Hyung." 

Wonwoo presses his lips together and takes a shaky breath, still avoiding the younger's eyes. 

Mingyu silently cleans the wounds and applies ointment, before bandaging his wrists. Wonwoo doesn't really see it as necessary, but also doesn't feel like he's in a place to argue. 

Lastly, Mingyu tips his chin up and kisses him, chaste and innocent, but conveying enough emotions to ease Wonwoo's anxiety. 

"Wonwoo, I love you. That's enough reason for me to help you unconditionally. I'm not judging you for anything. Just, _please_ , talk to me, sweetheart." 

He opens his mouth, yet Mingyu shushes him by putting a finger against Wonwoo's lips. 

"Not today. Let's talk tomorrow about it, maybe even with Cheol, if you want." 

Mingyu pulled him up and placed on each of Wonwoo's bandaged wrists a kiss visibly. 

"Lemme pamper you for the rest of the evening. I'll warm up food and then we gonna watch a movie, if you'd like even with the others. Sound good?" 

Wonwoo smiled exhausted, nonetheless thankful. 

"Okay. I trust you, Gyu." 

"I love you." 

"I love you too."

**Author's Note:**

> This wasn't exactly planned.^^' I'm actually working on a longer svt fic but then I just fell into a bad mood and kinda worked me out of it projecting and writing about it.  
> I might return to this universe one day and explore further ideas (the aftermath, further incidents, other members perspectives etc.), tho pls don't get any high hopes. I'm still rusty when it comes to writing.


End file.
